


Folie a Deux I thru III

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Folie a Deux I thru III

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Folie a Deux - Pas de Deux - Mulder by Kassandra

Slashx: 11 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 13 July 1998  
Folie a Deux - Pas de Deux - Mulder  
By Kassandra   
Disclaimers disclaimed  
Warnings warned.  
Not a round robin.

* * *

Folie A Deux - Pas De Deux - Mulder

I woke with a start, total disorientation in the near dark, not sure where I was, or whose arm was over my belly.

Took in a breath to slow the adrenaline rush, remembered. And checked the clock, amazed at the greyness creeping through the blinds. Christ.

I wasn't used to sleeping in my bed. Or with someone. But Skinner hadn't left me to sleep on the couch, alone. Hadn't left after I was asleep.

It took a minute to lose the rush from waking suddenly. To let myself relax into the warmth against my back.

My back.

Frequently exposed of late, because my partner--was tired of believing me. Tired of believing *in* me.

I didn't blame her, entirely, but it hurt anyway.

It had hurt more to discover that she'd lied to me in Chicago. She hadn't done that autopsy. Not until I'd begged her to check again. For my sanity. For my life.

It hurt as badly as when she'd told me that she'd been given cancer to make me believe. Believe that every will o'the wisp I'd chased over the years was real, and not some delusion.

"Go back to sleep," Skinner grumbled behind me. "It's Saturday, for Christ's sake."

I couldn't help grinning at that. Even in bed, he was capable of the AD grumble. Less crisp, naturally, but still definitely his.

I let myself relax even more, put my hand over his. "I'm asleep," I assured him softly, trying not to laugh.

"Right." Beard stubble on my shoulder made me shiver. The warmth of his mouth made me shiver. Hell, having him there made me shiver, and it was outright terror. I wasn't used to having people stick around.

But I turned my face anyway, kissed him back. He leaned up and studied my face, frowning a little. "You all right?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. Or as near as one can shrug lying down. "Thinking about Scully."

His thumb stroked my cheek. I stared up into his dark eyes, marveling at how different he looked outside of the AD bureaucratic drag.

Very different. Warm. Human. Approachable. The concern in his eyes made my throat feel tight. "I'm fine," I told him and winced at the inevitable echo of Scully's assurances to me.

"Right." Dry tone. He kissed my mouth again, gently, kissed my cheekbone and suddenly rolled onto his back again, pulling me with him.

I was laughing before the arc ended, rested my arms on his chest and my chin on my arms. "Obviously, I'm having a very strange dream," I told him. 

"You and me both," he agreed and sighed. Yawned, one hand coming up to cup the back of my neck. "I hope you have food in this rathole you call an apartment."

I laughed softly. "We all don't have AD's salaries."

"You shouldn't spend so much money on your suits. Does that mean you *don't* have food in this apartment?"

"I have food." Turning my head, I rested it on his chest, listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat. Shivered again. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

There was a silence. I listened to him breathe. 

"About being careful to be discreet about this relationship?" Cautious tone. "Yes. Why, you aren't planning to sing lovesongs in the hallway outside my office door, are you?."

I laughed again, but it was suddenly hard to see. "Damn, I had a song all picked out."

A low chuckle. A reassuring chuckle. I smiled idiotically at nothing at all, then forced myself to think about cold, hard facts.

Fact: I was a seriously fucked up individual. Obsessive. Focused to the nth degree. A thorn in his professional side.

Fact: Skinner was AD. Pretty fucking high profile.

Fact: Neither of us was exactly a winner in the relationship game. And this was going to be tougher. Two men? Please. We don't treat each other any better than women complain we treat them.

He tugged a lock of my hair sharply. "Stop worrying."

I raised my head. "You aren't?"

Dark eyes, hard to read. "Mulder, worrying is moot. We're here now. Let's take it from this point on."

I marveled again. "Just like that?"

Wry expression that made me laugh. "Mulder, it isn't exactly as if we just met in the local coffeehouse. We've known each other for a number of years. We know a fair amount of each other's strengths and weaknesses, and each other's quirks. Not all, certainly, I admit, but it's a good start."

I blinked at that. Felt that idiotic smile bloom again beneath my nose.

He smiled back, looking oddly comfortable with himself. With me. 

With this.

"I've got bacon and eggs." 

He nodded. "Crisp bacon? Or soggy?"

"It will be crisp when it's done cooking," I told him comfortably. "How hungry are you?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Very hungry. Come here."

I shivered again at the heat in those eyes. Desire and terror, the story of my life. But this time, the desire was stronger. 

So I went.

Finis

 

* * *

 

Slashx: 6 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 13 July 1998  
Folie A Deux - Reprise  
By Kassandra   
Disclaimers disclaimed  
Warnings Warned  
As always this is not a round robin  
This is for Cynthia, who asked nicely  
I made this--heh.

* * *

Folie A Deux - Reprise  
By Kassandra

Mulder was sleeping on his couch when the knock at the door came, his broken finger cradled uneasily on his chest.

He started awake at the knock, considered the gun lying on his coffee table and shrugged it away. Rose and padded to the door.

Walter Skinner stood in the hallway, clad in civilian clothes indeed; a dark green henley and jeans and a leather jacket.

He swallowed hard. Not an official visit then. "Sir." Evenly.

"Agent Mulder." Skinner looked away briefly. "I, ah, was wondering if I could talk to you."

He held the door open. It was unlike the AD to be--hesitant was the word that came to mind. Skinner walked in past him, stood surveying the room with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Closing the door, Mulder considered. "Would you like a beer? I think that's all I've got left in the refrigerator, unless you count the poptarts."

"Yeah, please." Skinner looked at him. "You keep poptarts in your refrigerator?"

"It's a concession to Scully. I maintain that the preservatives should keep them from rotting, but she seems to think it's not enough." He padded into the kitchen, pulled two beers out and padded back, handed one to Skinner.

He resumed his position on the couch, let Skinner take the armchair. Busied himself opening the beer, no easy task with the fingers splinted together.

"Agent Scully gave me her report on the, ah, thing in the hospital room." Gruffly.

He managed the cap, took a sip. Wondered what Scully had said. "What did she say?"

Wry look, as if Skinner understood his concern. "She said she wasn't sure what she saw."

He looked away, swallowed past the tightness in his throat. "Really? I wasn't either."

"She said she couldn't see it enough to describe it."

Another hard swallow. "I could. But I wouldn't bother. I tried to tell you in Chicago."

He heard Skinner's sigh. "Yeah." Heavily. Skinner took a long drink from the bottle. "I was wrong."

It took him a moment to process that.

He found his jaw testing its flexibility. "What?" Hesitantly. 

"I was wrong." Grated out, almost unwillingly.

"If you start bleeding green, sir, I warn you, I have an ice pick." Thin edge of hysteria under the humor.

He got a long look. "Mulder, I was wrong." Evenly.

He had to look away. Took another drink. "Did Scully convince you of that?" Doubtfully.

"No. It was what she couldn't say that convinced me." Skinner sighed again.

He shivered suddenly, thinking about what that meant. "You mean it, don't you."

Abruptly, Skinner rose, moved to his window. Reached out and scratched at tape residue, humorless bark of laughter. "I mean it. Having you committed was the hardest thing I've had to do, ever, as a supervisor. And I was wrong."

He struggled with that. Blinked hard. "Well," rustily, "You had reason to think I was....delusional. You didn't see it."

Another bark of laughter. "There are a lot of things I don't see."

He looked up, but Skinner was still staring out the window. 

"A lot of things I didn't want to see." More quietly. Almost musing.

His throat was too tight again. "Hey, I don't blame you. I mean, I was pretty upset when that thing started coming after me, but hell, until then, I could kind of see your point."

"It nearly got you." Mildly and Skinner took another drink of beer. "Scully didn't do the autopsy, you must have questioned your own sanity, Mulder."

That struck too close to the core of hurt. He looked away. "She said she had. That she hadn't found anything."

No answer. Just Skinner, looking out his window. 

Restive, he shifted, took another drink of his own. "You did what you thought was the right thing, sir. I don't blame you."

"Thanks." Dry tone again. "You don't have to, Mulder, I blame me."

He blinked at that. "Sir, you thought I was a danger to myself and to others."

Skinner turned toward him so quickly he flinched. "But you weren't." Harshly. "I don't know what you saw either. I don't know what I experienced in Vietnam. But I don't doubt the reality of it. I doubted yours."

For no reason, he shivered. Rose to his feet and put a hand out tentatively. On Skinner's shoulder. "Sir, I'm okay." Managed a shaky laugh. "Nothing but a couple of bruises. You have a mean takedown, sir."

Skinner's hand came to his wrist. Closed over it gently. "Yeah." Very quietly.

Abruptly, he was too hot, wondered if it was the aftermath of the last forty-eight hours. Wondered if he were cracking up at last. Skinner's thumb stroked the underside of his wrist.

He made a sound in his throat, said something incoherent and leaned closer, heard the sound of glass on wood and suddenly he was pulled close against leather and cotton knit, held tightly. Silently.

Only he was shivering, burning and shivering at once, arms around a broader chest than his. Face pressed against the stubble of a long day. "I'm okay." Whispered.

"Yeah." Roughly. And suddenly, his face was tipped back, and he was kissing, being kissed, drowning in sensation his monastic life had foresworn for what seemed a goddamned wasted eternity.

He sank in it, drowned in it, the scrape of stubble, the heated stroke of Skinner's tongue into his mouth, against his own tongue, and Christ, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and didn't care if he did drown.

Let him drown in these waters, they were the warmest he'd found in decades.

He gasped when Skinner drew back, made a disappointed sound and felt a hand shape itself to the nape of his neck. "Shh," Skinner murmured and kissed him again. Hands--everywhere. Under his t-shirt, down his sweatpants. Proof of arousal pressed hard against his thigh and he was suddenly laughing.

Kissing Skinner's jaw. "I do have a bed."

Skinner stilled. "Really?" Tone of interest, curiosity even. "VCS swears you don't."

"Like I ever invite any of them for an overnight," he muttered and nipped again, licked. "Oh, Jesus. I'm really fucking delusional now."

Another short bark of laughter. "Well, I'm not committing you this time." Skinner drew back, looked into his eyes. "Where's the bedroom?"

The smile that took shape came from deep inside. He jerked his chin in the general direction. "Care to join me?"

"Try and stop me." Narrowed eyes. "Jesus, you nearly didn't make it this time. Because I didn't believe you. That easy?"

Mulder stood his ground for a moment. "You're the only one to tell me you were wrong," he whispered and the lanced wound drained of hurt. "And mean it."

Skinner's smile matched his own. "You're alive."

"I'm alive," he agreed and marveled at it. "Come on. This way." He led Skinner down the hall.

"I hope to hell you have more than a bed down there." 

He looked back. "All the wonders of the world," he told Skinner and found himself laughing the rest of the way down the hall.

Finis

 

* * *

 

Slashx: 10 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 13 July 1998  
Folie a Deux - Pas de Deux - Skinner  
By Kassandra   
Just another snippet that I wrote when I should have been doing something else. <sigh>  
Like laundry.  
Disclaimers disclaimed Warnings warned. No round robins

* * *

Folie A Deux - Pas De Deux

This wasn't what I'd come for. It wasn't what I'd intended to do.

But it had happened anyway.

And I couldn't blame Mulder. I'd kissed him, not the other way around.

"This isn't why I came here," I murmured and Mulder shifted, the faint light from the hallway changing the shape of his shadow on the bed.

I could see those eyes in the dimness, the faint gleam of them. Resting on me. "I didn't think you had." 

Uninflected. Careful. Revealing nothing. "Why did you come?"

I sighed inwardly. Mulder was ready for rejection. Sometimes, I swear, he courted it. "I came to be sure that you were all right." Reaching out, I rubbed my knuckles against the stubble on the edge of his jaw. "I came to tell you I was wrong," I added, wincing as I remembered how frightened his eyes had been. How I'd knocked him down, held him down until the ambulance arrived.

He turned his face against my fingers. A brief Mulder caress. "I'm sorry." A whisper in the dark.

"I didn't say I was sorry," I growled. "I said this isn't why I came." Leaned over and kissed his mouth. Very gently.

A friend's kiss. A lover's kiss? Maybe. I'd let my own control lapse, but holding Mulder was like holding a wildfire. Or trying to.

A goddamned force of nature. Which wasn't entirely true, he hadn't knocked me down and taken me captive.

After Scully's report, I had gone to the morgue. Seen that rotting corpse with the mark on the back of its neck.

I'd nearly killed him. I'd certainly made his life more difficult in the Bureau. So I'd come over to tell him I was wrong and fucked him again. This time physically.

The hell of it was, it was my fault, not his, force of nature or not. I was the one who'd kissed him, catching fire the way I once had while a scared kid at war.

That was part of it. He'd survived, no thanks to me, he was whole and alive. And maybe that was part of it for him, too.

But I hadn't meant for this to happen. We were going to have to think about it, take it slowly. And be very goddamned careful.

Don't ask, don't tell--sure. My career was marking time, I'd never rise higher. You don't promote a man who's been arrested and accused of murder and attempted murder. I'd come to terms with that, had seen my ambition sacrificed for what I considered honor and integrity.

And then sacrificed my honor and integrity for Scully, a wasted effort. The bastard never intended to honor our agreement. He just wanted me pulled deeper and deeper into the shit.

"You can go if you want." Uninflected again. Revealing nothing, no hint of anger, of sadness, of relief.

"Do you want me to?" I kept my tone blunt.

"I didn't say that."

"I didn't say I wanted to go, either."

He leaned up on one elbow, little more than a shadowy shape in the growing darkness of the room. "Okay." A little baffled.

Well, my tone had been sharp. 

I sighed. "This isn't going to be easy."

He went very still. There are many kinds of stillness. The stillness of death. The stillness of happiness, when the first shock of joy strikes the glancing blow to the heart. The stillness of fear. I wasn't sure how to read this.

"We're both in high profile jobs, Mulder."

He shifted again, sat up, his knees bent, arms slung around them. Elegantly, casually, unself-consciously naked. Gloriously naked.

"Yeah." A shrug. "I don't know what you mean."

I swallowed the urge to growl at him. Instead, I reached out, let my fingers trail down the bumps of his vertebrae to the small of his back. "I mean, we're going to have to be careful." 

His head turned. "Oh."

Uninformative syllable. The urge to smack him on the ass traveled briefly through the back of my mind. "We're going to have to be careful about this relationship," I growled.

He shifted again, put a hand on my shin. "Oh." 

A little more informative. He sounded surprised. Maybe pleased. I hadn't realized I was worried about that until I heard his voice. "What, you thought I'd fuck you silly and then pretend it never happened?"

Short bitter sound. "It's happened before. Not for a long time." A quick glance backward. "I'm the king of the one night stand."

I sighed again. "Get over here."

To my delight, he did. Draped himself over my chest with a certain zeal that was not only pleasing, but flattering. Long, lean body. Not hard muscles, not the bulk of weights, but the slenderness of running and swimming. I ran my hand over his back, rubbed my chin against his hair. "I really didn't come over here for this," I murmured. "But I don't regret it."

He didn't answer, but I swear, I could feel his mouth curve against my neck in a smile.

I touched the nape of his neck. It would have--done whatever it did, right there. He was safe.

Maybe we both were.

Finis


End file.
